


the world that has made us can no longer contain us

by Clavain



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Blink And You Miss It Slash, Cognitive Dissonance, Confusing, Existentialism, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Meta, Minimalism, Surrealism, sorry - Freeform, theatre of the absurd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-10 19:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8930464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clavain/pseuds/Clavain
Summary: Time passes and nothing changes but the two of them, the only people, left drowning in a sea of constructs and brightly-coloured façades masquerading as a landscape."You and me." Robbie whispers, eyes wild. "We’re the only people in this hollow town. We’ve been here for centuries. And I want out.""slash" is in second chapter  have you ever read a lazytown fanfic in the form of a theatre of the absurd play interspaced with a screenplaywould you like to





	

**Author's Note:**

> **cws:** loads of cognitive dissonance, depersonalization, kind of gaslighting, unclear thinking, manipulation of people's thoughts, unclear thinking, dysphoria (not gender)
> 
> wtf is this tbh  
> ao3 does not format well - screenplay segments should be in courier new, indentation should apply consistently for all dialogue

**CAST**

The Narrator

Robbie R.    –––        Victim 1

Sportacus   –––        Victim 2

Stephanie   –––        Construct 1

Stingy         –––        Construct 2

Ziggy          –––        Construct 3

**Act I Scenography:** _Our victims are in front of a set of unconvincing cardboard trees which dominate all but the very cusp of the stage. Shadows of children move beyond them, tracked by filming equipment. The crew are in centre stage, but only visible to the audience and not to R or S, who talk to each other uneasily, aware of being watched but not of the source. They both look slumped, slack, as though recently freed from puppet strings._

_When the Narrator is present he looms in centre stage, always elevated above the level of R and S. On occasion, he floats, or leans back and interacts with the film crew in hushed tones._

**-**

**WIDE SHOT:** A vibrant TOWN with bright houses like you see at the coast but without any seaside. Inside there are PUPPET-PEOPLE - things that act and move as though alive but if you peeled off their FACES you would find NOTHING underneath. Go deeper and there’s TREES and SET PIECES, motionless objects frozen in place. There’s a TIMELESSNESS about it, but also a MORBIDITY. The colours scream life but everything is incredibly still.

The episode begins. FIGURES snap into place and begin EXAGGERATED MOVEMENTS, jumping and raising their arms like AUTOMATONS. Occasionally, they talk to each other in dulcet, crashing tones, recalling a retold natural disaster. It is the opposite of before: VIOLENT and BUSY. The background is out-of-focus. As the camera pans, FRAGMENTS of SILHOUETTES come into view. They move much more calmly, but as soon as they reach the centre of the shot they are drawn into the FRANTIC DANCE.

Dolly-in from long shot to STEPHANIE and ZIGGY. They are playing HANDBALL…

-

_Open with R, regarding S. He looks so tired, moves with the joints of someone four times his age as though life’s crushing him: a vice. He speaks without pretence, without the absurd theatricality he normally demonstrates._

**R:**            Have you ever thought _really thought_ about Stephanie? What she means?

 **S:**            What do you mean? Stephanie is-

 **R:**            She's the beginning. She’s _our_ beginning. When I opened my eyes, she was the first thing I saw. She's our alpha and omega. There's nothing past her. When I picture of my earliest memory I conjure an image of her with that neon pink hair and nauseatingly sweet voice. It’s like she birthed this town and everyone in it.

( _S stares. A moment of silence._ )

 **S:**            She's just a child.

 **R:**            She's not a child. None of them are children. You're missing the point.

 **NARRATOR:** Sportacus studies his face, mind racing, trying to spot some sign that Robbie doesn’t mean his words. Anything to show he isn’t serious, that he doesn’t really consider Stephanie inhuman. That kind of mentality is dangerous. People kill for that.

_(R looks vaguely disappointed by the local hero’s reaction, or perhaps the lack of one. He walks offstage and into the camera’s view._

_S stares after him, unsettled._ )

-

 **LONG SHOT** of ROBBIE R. in his LAIR. He is building a ANTISPORTS ROBOT. It is bright and shiny and deadly, something that screams of ROBBIE R.’S frustration and will for DESTRUCTION.

ROBBIE: (to himself) This will stop that silly handball once and for all!

(AD BREAK)

-

 **R:**            You didn't start here. You're not from here.

 **S:**             ( _Taken aback but spellbound, unable to not answer the question. Nods._ )

 **R:**             You've always been here.

 **S:**             ( _Nod._ )

( _The two drift apart and offstage into the camera’s view_ )

-

The CHILDREN are still playing HANDBALL. STINGY is holding the BALL and refusing to pass it to other children.

SPORTACUS: That’s not how to play the game, Stingy!

STINGY: (murmuring) It’s my ball…

ROBBIE R. creeps into the background holding a REMOTE CONTROL. STEPHANIE notices him and waves. He does not wave back.

ZIGGY: (exasperated) Stingy!

MID-SHOT of ROBBIE R. fiddling with remote. He is making FORCED sounds of TRIUMPH. CUT to REACTION SHOT (EXTREME CLOSE-UP) of SPORTACUS looking CONCERNED. CUT to ANTISPORTS ROBOT, a giant metal AUTOMATON which looks VICIOUS and UNRESTRAINED. It personifies ROBBIE R.’s anger and frustration with this HOLLOW WORLD.

STEPHANIE: What is that!

ANTISPORTS ROBOT advances on the FIELD, looming over the CHILDREN.

FADE TO BLACK.

-

_R and S wind through the cameras, R almost breaking into a jog and casting fearful glances over his shoulder at the shadows behind him. S is more casual, slow, disinterested in the change of genre, but twitching his hands, restless. R sits down but S remains standing, jogging his legs._

**R** :            _(exhausted)_ What do you remember before this? Before handball?

 **S** :            ( _thinking hard_ ) The machine that made sweets. It blew them everywhere.

 **R** :            And how did you get here?

( _S_ _pauses and considers, looking increasingly disturbed.)_

 **R** :            Don't you see? There are gaps.

( _From backstage, the shout “Sportacus!” is heard. S cartwheels away from the audience, subconsciously dodging the filming equipment. He does not say goodbye to R. After two minutes of silence R follows in jagged movements, as though compelled._ )

-

ANTISPORTS ROBOT has taken the BALL and raised it up. STINGY, unwilling to let go, is dangling in the air dangerously. (Shoot separately to avoid puppeteer being in-frame).

STINGY: Help!

SPORTACUS: Don’t worry, Stingy!

ACTION MATCH as SPORTACUS vaults and grabs STINGY, safely pulling him to the ground with the BALL still in his grasp.

ROBBIE R.: (frustrated) That Sportakook!

ROBBIE R. starts mashing the buttons on REMOTE CONTROL. He looks DIZZY and OVERWHELMED, desperately trying to somehow salvage his loss. ANTISPORTS ROBOT spins in circles and executes other actions, unheeding of ROBBIE R.’s desperation.

-

( _S is curled on the floor, unnaturally still, eyes open and staring into the middle distance. The Narrator is standing over him menacingly, centre-stage, invisible to all but the audience. Around him the film crew move, adjusting the crane in order to get a tracking shot of an indistinct shadow shifting._ )

 **NARRATOR** :       There comes a point when the thought arises on its own. He's woken up by the crystal and suddenly considers that he doesn't ever remember being asleep. He doesn't remember anything before, after, or beyond Lazytown. His entire experience is crammed into episodic events here, interspaced with snatched conversational fragments with Robbie - Robbie who's clearly so very ill, who shakes and grows bags under his eyes when the others have their backs turned.

Robbie's desperate to communicate _something._ And it's getting through, slowly. He's been here for a long time and not much has changed. The mayor is the mayor is the mayor. There are children, still children, unmarked by the passing time. They act in a very straightforward way - the flawed way of someone half-grown, but repetitively, unimaginatively.

Spending time with Robbie alone does not match up to his dramatic failures. His half-hearted sabotage. All those improbable robots, with their unlikely, well-timed misfires.

At first it seemed like Robbie wasn't making sense. Some kind of sickness. But now it must have infected him, because nothing makes sense. Nothing's changed - of course, nothing ever has, why should it? But nothing's decaying or growing and he's giving children life advice but he could swear it's been _decades_. Decades and they should have grown and left and become like him somehow, or like their parents.

Not still be here, faces of plastic, still making the same mistakes and selfish choices they always have. No one's grown in any capacity. It doesn't rain. Robbie destroys things then everyone misses time and shifts and look: it's back to normal.

( _S sits up violently.)_

 **S** :            ( _With great wonderment and fear._ ) Nothing’s changed. **Nothing’s changed.**

( _R walks through the cardboard trees, body slumped. When he notices S he wanders over, despairing.)_

 **R:**             ( _Cleaning nails, mouth drawn taut: a frown._ ) You care about the children. You protect them.

 **NARRATOR:** Sportacus stares at him, unable to explain. Deep, instinctual, like a law of the universe. Energy is not created or destroyed, gravity exerts force towards the earth's core and Sportacus loves children. He protects them the same way he would yank his hand away from a hot stove: to avoid pain, because it’s a deep primal part of him. Reflex. Not under his conscious control.

 **R:**             In this brave new world of ours, you help everyone and no one helps you. ( _He leans in and whispers, eyes wild_ ) I'd like to change that. You and me, we’re the only _people_ in this hollow town. We’ve been here for centuries. And I want out.

 **NARRATOR:**         Things change after that confession.

( _R flinches and turns around_ )

 **R:** Did you hear something? A voice? I’m sure I-

_Curtain falls, cutting R off mid-sentence. End of ACT 1._

-

STEPHANIE: Wow, thanks so much Sportacus for such a fun game of handball! Playing outside is so much fun!

SPORTACUS responds with a strained, pained smile.

STINGY picks up the BALL in the edge of the frame, unnoticed by SPORTACUS who is obviously distracted.

(ENDING THEME)

**Author's Note:**

> accidentally produces pretentious shit feelsbadman sorry
> 
> don't h8 on me m8 i just made this for the keks
> 
>  
> 
> [This is a reimagining of my incomplete _Animal Crossing: New Leaf_ and Shakespeare's _The Tempest_ crossover fic.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6658027/chapters/15229414)
> 
> decided to post two acts separately because draft was about to expire and didn't want to have to retype every tag


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